


Wildflowers

by kissthemforme



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Group Homes, M/M, also its shit i'm sorry yall, i live in a group home so is this just a me coping fic?, i'm honestly just writing this for myself, oh well, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 16:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21305228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissthemforme/pseuds/kissthemforme
Summary: Frank moves into a group home to escape an abusive family. There, he meets the awkward Mikey, the shy and nerdy Gerard, and their non-resident friend Ray, who knows too much about Metallica. (This summary sucks I know I hate doing summaries)
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! So before anyone gets pissed off at me for writing this, this is literally me writing about my own experience of being a trans and gay kid having to run away from home. So like, I have the qualifications to write this. I'm not trying to romanticize group home life or coming from an abusive household. This is just my own experience. Everyones experience is different, and maybe me writing this will help someone. Who knows. Anyways, enjoy!

Up The Wolves by The Mountain Goats (from Frank’s personal playlist)

Franks heart pounded in his chest, backpack straps digging into his shoulders and grocery bag straps cutting into his fingers. A much too heavy guitar case was sliding down his left arm, a dusty guitar amp leaned against his right leg. He set his bags down on the porch he was currently nervously rocking back and forth on. It could have been worse, right? So much worse. He could NOT have a place to stay, y’know? He could be on the streets. That would be worse. So much worse. The bright orange door seemed to loom taller in front of him. He kicked at the gray porch, his faded and scuffed converse sending a small pebble into the bottom of the door with a thunk. He wish he was taller. Tougher. What if someone beat him up? When he had come for the interview and tour he hadn’t had a chance to meet anyone. What if they were all angry drug addicted criminals who’d sneak in his room at night and kill him? Or steal his stuff? He exhaled. It was still better than being on the streets.  
Ringing the doorbell seemed to take a lot more energy than he wanted. He was already drained though, so that was probably why. He needed sleep. And a good cry. Maybe both. A young woman with long dark brown hair pushed the door open, smiling at Frank. She was dressed in a pair of jeans, a black shirt that had the Buffy the Vampire Slayer cast across in, and a dark blue cardigan. Frank recognized her from his interview. Her name was Steph or Sam or Sarah. He couldn’t remember. It started with an S.  
“Hi Frank! Is this everything?”  
Frank nodded, twirling his lip ring with his tongue.  
“Great! I can grab a few of those and I can show you your room so you can get settled!”  
Frank nodded again, pushed his guitar up his arm, and picked up a few bags. Steph or Sam or Sarah picked up his amp and another grocery bag and led him inside, the door slamming shut behind them.  
The house looked the same as it had when Frank had come for the interview. Same grey colored couches, Same glitter and paint covered kitchen table. Same staff office with blue walls. Obviously teenager drawn art littered the living room walls. They’d called in a common room when he’d come for the interview. A TV was playing the Simpsons. Some kid with flat brown-blond hair and glasses was spread across the couch, his eyes glued to his phone.  
Passing the brightly lit kitchen, Frank and Steph or Sam or Sarah walked down a hallway, the white walls lined with doors. Some had name cards on them. The first room was labeled Gerard, the second Mikey. They stopped at the third room. It was across from a dark bathroom. Convenient. Steph or Sam or Sarah opened the door, revealing a small room with a neatly made bed, white dresser covered in toiletries, and small grey side table. Across from the bed was a closed thin door.  
“This is room three, and it’ll be your room! Feel free to set it up however you want to make yourself feel at home!” Steph or Sam or Sarah said. She reached around in her cardigan pocket for a moment and pulled out a key. It was labeled M3. “This is the key to your closet!”  
Frank nodded and muttered a small “Thanks.”  
Steph or Sam or Sarah smiled at him. “I’ll leave you to set up. There’s a list of house rules and expectations on your dresser. If you need anything, let me know! Dinner should be ready in a few hours, but I’ll probably be back before then to make sure you’re doing good.” She stopped for a second, and then pursed her lips. “Don’t ever hesitate to ask myself or any of the other staff for anything. We’re here for you. We’ll always listen if you need to vent or even just talk, ok?”  
Frank pulled a small smile. “Thanks.”  
“Ok! I’ll leave you to it then Frank!” She clapped her hands and turned to leave, before whipping her head back around and exclaiming “My name’s Sabrina, in case you forgot.”  
Sabrina. That was neither Steph or Sam or Sarah.  
Frank listened as her shoes thumped down the hallway, and away from his room. He closed his door quietly and slowly moved all his bags to his bed. He could unpack his clothes first, or he could deal with the few posters he took with him. Or maybe he should deal with his CD’s and few books? He yanked on a random bag and looked inside. Clothes. He had spent an hour that morning and an hour the night before meticulously rolling outfit after outfit together so they’d all fit. He only took his favorite ones. He could always buy new ones. The process of unrolling everything and properly folding it was almost as annoying as rolling everything. It felt strange putting his clothes into an unfamiliar drawer. His drawer at home had been brown. This one was white.  
Anxiety started clawing up his throat as he went to work, unrolling and folding like some sort of machine. His parents would eventually come home and realize he was gone. Would they try to find him? Would they be angry? Or would they even care? He swallowed and moved onto the next shirt. He didn’t want to think about it. Their reactions weren’t his problem anymore. They were the reason he left, so they’d have to deal with it. Fucking assholes.  
It took Frank roughly an hour to set up his room to feel slightly like this. It still smelled foreign and felt too small, but he had his few posters up, and had put his guitar and amp in the closet. He’d get used to it eventually he assumed. He crawled onto the unfamiliar sheets on top of an unfamiliar bed. He was exhausted. A week's worth of two hours of sleep a night was catching up to him. He reached into his jeans and pulled out his phone, greasy black hair falling into his eyes as he peered at the screen. He had an email. He had a few emails. He read the sender.  
The anxiety crawled back into his throat. They were from his parents. Shit.  
He opened up the first email. “Please come home. We’re worried about you. Love your mom and dad.”  
He opened the second email. “Please come home. We have your aunts and uncles over praying for you. The priest is here too. We miss you. Love your mom and dad.”  
He opened the third email. “We’re worried sick. Your mother hasn’t stopped crying. Please come home. Love your dad.”  
He opened around seven more of these before he realized tears had started dripping down his face. He couldn’t read any more. He couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t. Not after he’d worked this hard to get out. They were trying to guilt trip him. That was all. He shut the email app down, and opened spotify. He plugged in his headphones and turned on a playlist titled Everything. He needed to not exist for a bit.  
He was around two songs in when his phone buzzed. He picked it up. Another email. His heart thumped as he opened it. “Your uncle has been driving around looking for you. Your mother is still crying. I’m crying. Please come home.”  
He shut the email. A sour feeling stirred in his stomach. Guilt. He didn’t want to feel guilty for this. Not at all. He shouldn’t. But he did. At least the guilt feeling was normal. Something familiar.  
He started keeping track. His phone would buzz every fifteen to twenty minutes or so. Each one was an email. Without fail it had the same sort of message: we miss you, please come home, we love you. Hadn’t they read the letter he’d left? He’d made it clear why he’d left. The assholes had probably torn it up before they’d even finished it. Dicks.  
Sighing he unplugged his headphones and shut off his music. He decided he could deal with this later. Not right now. And sat up and chucked his phone next to him. Time to socialize. Distract himself. Maybe make friends with some druggies or criminals.  
The only person in the common room was still the kid with the flat hair and glasses. The tv had changed from the Simpsons to Say Yes To the Dress. Frank sat on the edge of the couch awkwardly, pushing his knees together.  
The kid looked up from his phone and peered over his glasses. “Hi.”  
Frank shifted awkwardly. “Hey.”  
“I haven’t seen you before. You move in today?”  
Frank nodded.  
The kid peered back at his phone. “I’m Mikey.”  
One of the doors had been labeled Mikey.  
“Frank.”  
The kid cleared his throat, set his phone down, and continued peering at Frank over his glasses. The fact that he wasn’t pushing his glasses further up his nose annoyed Frank. “So what brings you here Frank.”  
Frank blinked.  
“Like, why did you move in. This is a group home. You’re here for a reason.”  
Frank swallowed. “Uh, I’m gay. And my parents were, y’know, homophobic assholes. And just assholes in general. So I left. Now I’m here.”  
Mikey nodded, his eyes squinting. Fran couldn’t tell if it was cuz he couldn’t see or if he was thinking.  
“My parents were the same.”  
“Hmm?”  
Mikey sat up, shifting to look properly at Frank. He still peered over his glasses. “My brothers gay. He lives here too. My parents found out that he was, y’know, gay, and basically raised hell. So he ran away and ended up here.”  
Frank nodded. So there were other people here like him? He wasn’t alone?  
“I’m not gay,” Mike said, continuing his story. “But with my brother gone, my parents decided to shove everything onto me. So I ended up here too.”  
“Ah.”  
“It’s not great, but it’s better than living THERE.”  
Frank nodded.  
Mikey stared at him in silence. Very awkward silence. Frank desperately wanted to leave, so he decided to focus on the TV. Say Yes To the Dress was never quite his thing, no matter how gay he was, but at the moment it seemed better than ever.  
“So you like Green Day?”  
Franks ears perked up as he turned his attention back to Mikey. Mikey pointed at Franks shirt. Frank looked down, suddenly remembering the Green Day logo across his chest. “Oh. Yeah. I love Green Day. You?”  
“They’re pretty good yeah. They really know what's up. No Trump? No KKK? No fascist USA? They really didn’t hold back.”  
Frank leaned back against the couch. “You’re honestly right. Revolution Radio was the album we all needed at just the right time.”  
“I agree. I wouldn’t consider it their best, but it’s certainly a strong record.”  
“I won't argue with you on that.”  
From the kitchen connected to the common room, a head poked through. The head had floppy brown hair, and scraggly beard, and belonged to someone excessively tall. “Hey! You must be Frank!”  
Frank hesitated. “Uh, yeah. I’m Frank.”  
The head grinned. “I’m Kevin! I’ll be your keyworker, which we can talk about after dinner. I see you’ve met Mikey?”  
“Oh. Yeah.” Frank looked over at Mikey, who was staring back at his phone.  
“Franks pretty cool.”  
Kevin grinned again. He seemed to be made of pure sugar and adrenaline. “Great! Thats great! Well, have a good time!” And then the head was gone.  
“Kevin’s cool.” Mikey said with a shrug. “You should meet Gerard.”  
One of the doors had also been labeled Gerard. “Who’s Gerard?”  
“My brother. He’ll probably be out soon. He sits in his room a lot and draws. He’s ok though.”  
“Ah.” Frank looked at the art covered wall. Were any of them by Gerard? There was one near the ceiling that said ‘Being gay is like glitter, it never goes away’. Maybe that one was by Gerard. Or there was a painting of a sunset. Maybe that one was by Gerard. There were a shit ton of paintings on the wall. One was of a group of anime like people. From what Frank could gather, they were all residents of the house. None of them looked like Mikey. Maybe they were old residents?  
The shuffling of feet emerged from the guys wing.  
“Hey Gee. Say Yes To the Dress is on.”  
Frank looked towards the entrance of the common room. A young man with greasy black hair stared back at him. He was wearing a hoodie and a pair of baggy grey jeans. His face was round with an upturned nose and thin lips. “And why would I care about Say Yes To the Dress.” He spoke out of the side of his mouth. His voice was higher pitched than Frank expected. Almost nasally, but not quite.  
“I don’t know. Just thought you’d like to know.”  
Gee, or Gerard as Frank assumed, shuffled over to the couch and sat next to Mikey. He stared at Frank again. “Hey.”  
“Hi.”  
Mikey glanced up from his phone let his eyes shift between Frank and Gerard. “Gerard this is Frank. Frank this is Gerard.”  
Silence.  
“Frank’s gay and new.”  
Gerard nodded.  
Silence.  
“Frank also likes Green Day.”  
Gerard shrugged. “Green Day’s pretty cool.”  
Frank nodded.  
Mikey looked between them again. “This is too awkward. I’m leaving.”  
Gerard frowned. “You can’t just tell me he’s new, gay, and likes Green Day and expect us to suddenly be pals. No offence.”  
Frank shook his head. “None taken.”  
Mikey unfolded himself and slunk away from the couch. “Enjoy Say Yes To the Dress.”  
Gerard sighed and turned towards the tv. “I’m sorry about Mikey.”  
“It’s all good. He seems nice.”  
Silence continued to ensue in the air until both Frank and Gerard finally gave into the impending boredom that comes with Say Yes To the Dress.  
“So, you like any bands apart from Green Day?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello y'all! Thank you so much for the wonderful reception the first chapter got! I probably wont keep updating this often, but when i have the inspiration ill do my best! Also same disclaimer as before: this is based off my own experience, and not everyones experience is the same! Also if anyone ever wants to chat, feel free to hit me up on tumblr! My username is groovy-egg!

My Heroes by Kimya Dawson (From Franks Personal Playlist)

Frank’s first dinner at the house had been nothing less than awkward. Random faces came and went, each grabbing a plate of homemade macaroni and heading back to their respective rooms, or eating quietly at the kitchen table. Frank had opted to eat at the table. Gerard had slunk back to his room with a plate of food almost as soon as he could. Gerard had been nice. He had an interesting taste in music and liked comic books. Frank certainly wouldn’t mind having to hang out with Gerard. At least they’d have a few things to talk about like batman or the Misfits.  
Surveying the people at the table with him, Frank figured Gerard, and possibly Mikey, were the few people he’d actually have any sort of similar interests with. There was a tall young woman with bleach blond hair and a tight tank top. Her skin was tan, and her face heavy with makeup. Kevin, one of the staff, had introduced her to Frank as Iman.  
The other person at the table was a quiet guy with glasses and balding hair. He didn’t say anything as he ate, just stared at his plate as he ate, and then got up with a nervous laugh and quiet ‘thanks.’ Kevin had introduced him as Ben. Frank very quickly decided Ben made him slightly uncomfortable.  
Kevin was also at the table, but Kevin didn’t really count. He was a staff, not another resident. Kevin seemed nice though. He told Frank about how he’d been surfing the day before. Anyone who surfed had to be at least kind of ok.  
“If you don’t mind, after dinner there's a few forms I need you to fill out. We can do it in one of the offices upstairs whenever you’re ready?”  
Frank nodded, spearing a piece of macaroni with his fork. “Is it cool if I just run to my room for a second?”  
“Hell yeah dude do what you gotta do!” Kevin grinned and pushed his chair back, heading to the kitchen. Frank followed behind him, empty plate in hand. Frank felt his hands shaking as he gently placed his plate in the dishwasher. He needed to check his phone. He needed to know.  
His phone was still on his bed, exactly where he’d left it. He inhaled deeply, and picked it up, shutting the door to his room quietly. Five new emails. They were all basically the same as the others, with a few with an added ‘the door will be unlocked tonight.’ The most recent one was from five minutes before. Frank clicked on it.  
‘We’re worried about you so much. I didn’t tell you but I have cancer. I didn’t want you to know. We’ve called the police. We just want you home safe. I don’t want the family ending like this, not when I’m sick. Love, your dad.’  
Everything felt too cold and too sharp. They had called the police. The police were looking for him. What if they found out where he was? He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Everything would be so much worse if he went back. Worse than it already was. He couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t-  
Cancer.  
He reread the email.  
His dad had cancer?  
Frank knew there was the possibility that his dad had cancer. He had had to go for some tests, but they hadn’t come back as positive. They’d all been unsure. He reread the email again. This had to be some sort of tactic to get him home. His dad had lied before. He lied more than he’d admit to. And it was just ass cancer or something, that could be dealt with, right?  
He slipped his phone in his pocket and walked down the hall, his head swimming. Police police police cancer police police cancer cancer cancer-  
He stopped in front of the staff room door. Kevin was sitting at a computer, Sabrina sitting across from him in a love seat. They were discussing something about road trips or bags of chips, or something involving both. “I’m ready to do those papers.”  
Kevin looked up from the computer. “Great!”  
“By the way, my parents called the police.”  
Kevin looked at him for a second.  
“They’ve been sending me emails. One of them said they called the police.”  
Kevin nodded. “That… that sucks. But this isn’t the first time someone's parents have done that here. We technically wont let police inside unless they’re in active pursuit, so you’ll be safe here, ok?”  
Frank looked at the floor.  
“This must be tough for you.”  
Frank felt tears well in his eyes. It was so beyond tough. He just wished his parents would forget about him. Or he’d forget about his parents. Or both. He wanted to close his eyes and never have to open them.  
“Wanna sit in here and talk before we do those papers?”  
Frank nodded, moving to sit on a small bench next to the computer. “They’ve sent me like, fifteen emails.”  
Sabrina and Kevin both turned to look at him, listening.  
“They keep saying they want me back home, but they don’t want me back home. They want the Frank that they thought I was back home. I can’t go back. Not after I told them I’m gay. It would be really fucking bad.”  
“And no ones going to force you to go back.” Sabrina said. “Your safety is important, and if it’s not safe to be you there, than it’s not safe for you to be there.”  
“Yeah. And I know the emails are just fucking guilt trips anyways.”  
“Even if they’re guilt trips, they’re allowed to upset you.” Kevin tapped the armrest of the computer chair. “It’ll take you a while to get over this. But we’re all here for you, ok?”  
Frank dragged a hand across his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He didn’t want to think too much about this. He’d be safe here, plus he hadn’t written where he was going in the letter. He’d be safe. Things would just suck for a bit. “I think I’m good now. Can we do the paperwork?”

***

The paperwork took a lot longer and was a lot more tedious than Frank had anticipated. All kinds of health questions and then the concept of ‘out times’ were brought up, meaning during the entirety of summer Frank had to be out of the house from 11 to 3. Gross. And then there were more sheets and forms and signatures. It must’ve taken close to a half hour to finish everything. And then there was a quick rundown of the rules, which mainly consisted of ‘no drugs or alcohol on property, keep your room clean, do your daily chores’ or rules of a similar strain. That must’ve taken around ten minutes. By the time Frank and Kevin were done, Frank decided he never wanted to look at paperwork for at least a month. Maybe two.  
Leaving the office felt like a whole brick had been lifted off his shoulders. There had been way too much stress in one day. Way too much.  
Outside the office in the upstairs commons room, once again lounging on a couch, was Mikey. He looked up from whatever game he was playing on his phone and peered at Frank. "Hey. Wanna go to the grocery store with Gerard and I." He asked, his question sounding more like a statement. "They sell succulents."  
Frank wasn't sure what succulents had to do with anything. "Sure?"  
Mikey stood up without a word and immediately headed back downstairs. Frank followed behind.  
"Gerard thinks you're cool but was too shy to ask you to come with us himself. Don't tell him I told you that."  
At the bottom of the stairs stood Gerard, still in the black hoodie and gray sweatpants. It was very obvious with the pink expression on his face that he'd heard everything Mikey had said.  
Mikey looked at him and shrugged.  
Gerard shoved his hands in his pockets, quietly sulking. "Let's head out I guess."  
The warm summer night air licked at Franks face, the whisper of a breeze blowing his black hair out of his eye. He enjoyed summer nights like this, when the weather was nice but also not scorching like it could be during the day.  
The three walked down the street, Mikey lagging behind the other two.  
Next to Frank Gerard cleared his throat. "So, uhh, how're you liking your first day here?  
Frank shrugged. "I like the house, but my parents are being dumbasses which isn't making my day any better."  
Gerard hummed. "Emails?"  
Frank's eyebrows pushed together. "Yeah, how did you…"  
"Mikey told me a little bit about why you moved in. My parents were the same. When I left they sent me so many fucking emails and texts and all that bullshit. Parents are assholes."  
"Yeah they are."  
The group turned a corner. In the distance, Frank could hear a police siren. Fuck. They weren't coming for him, were they? They couldn't have figured out where he was. There was no way. He barely told anyone. He could feel his breathing starting to pick up. No. No, he was safe. The staff had said so. Plus how would his parents have figured out where he was so quickly? There was no way they had.  
The group turned another corner, a large building coming into view. "Wait," Frank muttered. "Why are we going to the grocery store anyways?"  
"Oh, Mikey wants to look at the succulents."  
Almost as if on cue, Mikey dashed by them, his arms pulled back into a Naruto run before he settled into a slightly normal looking long-legged run.  
Gerard groaned. "I swear to fucking god that bastard."  
Frank grinned, watching as Mikey tripped over his feet, recovered, and dashed into the store. "Does he just really like succulents?"  
"I guess." Gerard shrugged. "He just likes plants for some reason. His room may as well be a fucking green house "  
"Shit."  
By the time the other two made it to the store, Mikey already had an arm full of succulents. He peered down at the rest of the succulents on display. "Is six succulents too many?"  
Frank leaned over Mikey’s shoulder, looking at the succulents. “I feel like three is too many succulents.”  
“Frank I thought I could be your friend I guess I was wrong.”  
Frank couldn’t help but smile as the three walked back to the house, Mikey holding two bags of succulents and Gerard making comments about wise money spending. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.  
Or maybe he was wrong.


End file.
